


A Woman of Contradictions

by helsinkibaby



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: F/M, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-21
Updated: 2003-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: For as long as he's been in love with her, he's known that she's a woman of contradictions
Relationships: Calleigh Duquesne/Tim Speedle
Kudos: 1





	A Woman of Contradictions

**Author's Note:**

> This is why I should have objected to challenges being placed on the CSI:M Fic list! Raven challenged - "Write a story including these words: zipper(s), zebra(s), (the name) Zorro, zap, zapped, zaps (you get the idea). This might seem a bit hard, so that's why there aren't that many words to include. I can't really ask for any other genre than humour, but if you made it serious... Wow, wouldn't THAT be a feat!" This is my response, with the lack of humour thrown in for bonus points.

For as long as he's been in love with her, Tim Speedle has known that Calleigh Duquesne is a woman of contradictions.

A Southern Belle who loves her heritage, is proud of being from Louisiana, but who's never gone home for as much as a weekend as long as he's known her.

A woman who professes to love her father, the man who once nicknamed her "Lambchop" yet who never talks to him, or about him.

A woman who looks every inch a lady, who looks as if she'd be at home sitting on the veranda in hoop skirts, sipping Mint Juleps, yet who knows more about guns and bullets than any three men on the Miami-Dade police force put together.

A woman who's tough as nails, who would never let anyone on the job see her weaknesses, yet who's been known to go through an entire box of tissues while looking at a schmaltzy movie.

There are times when he doesn’t even think about these contradictions.

There are times, like tonight, when they're uppermost in his mind.

He smiles when he hears her key in the lock, but he doesn't look up from the stove, where a pot of rice is bubbling away beside the mixture of chicken and sauce on the frying pan. His mouth waters at the smell, and he calls out a hello to her, telling her that there's a bottle of wine on the table, ready to be poured.

He turns when he hears the liquid hitting the glass, seeing her walking towards him with a glass in either hand, and for a moment, his heart literally skips a beat. She looks a vision; makeup impeccable, long blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She was in court today, and she's in the middle of a rant about defence attorneys and their everlasting cross-examinations, but he's too busy admiring the way that her light green jacket complements her colouring, the way that her dress just skims her knee, to really listen. Her shoes, sensible yet fashionable, heels high enough to raise her diminutive stature, but low enough to be considered proper for court, have already been kicked off, and he finds the sight of her in her stocking feet nothing less than adorable.

She sips her wine, and he manages to listen to her, even to contribute something to the discussion, and he tells her that dinner's going to be served in five minutes, that she should get changed. She flashes him a wicked grin, making him smile in response, putting down her glass, sliding the jacket from her shoulders, turning around to him, all without saying a word.

He takes the hint, sliding down the zipper, exposing the smooth skin of her back to his gaze, and his fingers itch to trace it. He gives in to the temptation for a moment, enjoying the shiver that courses through her, the goosebumps on her skin giving him a pleasant little thrill. But it's only for a moment, then he steps away, muttering something about dinner, not wanting it to be spoiled.

Her laugh is light, teasing, and she calls him a spoilsport as she pads her way towards the bedroom, stopping on her way to talk to Zorro, her beloved cat, and Speedle wastes no time in pointing out to her that he did remember to feed the cat when he got home. Calleigh loves the old black and white bag of bones, and he knows that if it was a choice between forgetting to feed Zorro and forgetting to feed her, he'd be in more trouble if he forgot to feed the cat.

She continues on into the bedroom, he does his thing in the kitchen, calling her when the food is on the table. He smiles when he sees her, because the contrast between five minutes ago and now couldn't be more pronounced, and he reminds himself again that she is indeed a woman of contradictions.

Five minutes ago, she looked the very picture of a competent young professional. Now, she looks almost childlike, her face bare of makeup, her hair loose down her back. The casual elegance of her suit has given way to the easy comfort of a tank top and baggy sweatpants, the stressed look on her face to a peaceful smile.

But the thing that makes his smile change to a huge grin is her choice of footwear - a pair of huge floppy slippers shaped like zebras. He gave them to her for Christmas, as a gag gift, but the joke had been on him because she loved them and she's worn them ever since. He teases her about them every chance he gets, and she must sense a crack coming now because she mock-glares at him, tells him not to even bother.

Wisely, he decides to listen to her, and they sit down at the table together, talking quietly about their day today, and their plans for tomorrow.

He doesn't know quite how he got so lucky, how a classy lady like her would ever give the time of day to a guy like him. He only knows that she's incredible, that he can't imagine his life without her, and that he doesn't want to try. He knows that she's a bundle of contradictions wrapped up in a charming package, knows that there's so much more to find out about her. He can't wait to get started, but he's in no rush, because he knows that they have all the time in the world.

For now, he's content to look no further than tonight, to the meal that he's prepared, the bottle of wine that they're going to share. When their eating is done, they're going to haggle over the washing-up, fighting over who gets to wash and who gets to dry. He'll try to tell her that he bought the food on the way home, and he cooked everything, so as a matter of fairness, she should really handle all the cleaning, and she'll laugh, telling him that it was a nice try, but that he doesn't have a hope. They'll laugh, and they'll work it out, and then they'll make their way into the living room, where they'll curl up on the couch, his arms around her, her head on his shoulder. They'll zap through all the different channels until they find something that they both want to watch, maybe something to make them both laugh, maybe something that will make her cry.

There's a brand-new box of tissues on the table just in case.


End file.
